


Aren't You Cold?

by suzanami



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Cold Weather, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Pouting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 09:45:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2063415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suzanami/pseuds/suzanami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bundled up in the stupid boots and layers of furs and gloves, she really is blind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aren't You Cold?

**Author's Note:**

> It's tokka week and I found this little one-shot that I wrote almost exactly two years ago, and I never did anything with it. I think it fits the TLC theme well enough.

 

Toph thrives with her feet on solid ground, with the sunlight beating down onto it, making it thrum with energy under her soles. When she can dig her toes into the earth, when everything is solid and good and warm.

Toph hates the North and South Poles. Most of the “ground” is just frozen water and any earth that _is_ around is buried and frozen and dead. She's forced into claustrophobic boots, thick and heavy, that make her feet sweat despite the ice; not forced by her friends but forced by necessity as she can't risk frostbite to her feet. Any sight she would have from the frozen ground is all but smothered away by the boots. The air is cold and sharp and she's told that when you breathe, you can see your breath's vapor because of the chill (she had never thought about being able to see breath or not, so she doesn't really care even though this is supposed to be something “neat”). She's aware of the sun but it's not the same as at home. She can feel the sun's warmth, but it's distant and weak.

Bundled up in the stupid boots and layers of furs and gloves, she really is blind. Sulking in a corner, she's unhappy to realize she hears, rather than feels, someone walking over to her. She's vaguely aware of the vibrations but can't tell who it is. Rather than reveal her weakness, she waits for the visitor to identify themselves. She can hear them breathing, shifting their weight, pushing snow around with their feet.

“I brought a snack.” Finally.

“What makes you think I needed a snack, meathead?”

Sokka snorts. “Well you haven't eaten all day, so I just made a wild guess.”

Toph sighs. “What'd you bring me?”

He plops down next to her. “It's just jerky, but I was having some and thought you might want a share.” He's silent for a moment, then prods her forearm gently.

This sucks. Usually she can feel how someone's moving through the vibrations via the ground, but she didn't even notice he's holding something out to her. She gropes for his hand, taking the chunk of meat and reluctantly gnawing on it. She hates to admit it, but she  _is_ pretty hungry. Pouting works up an appetite.

They sit in silence, each working their piece of jerky. Toph picks at hers, shredding off slivers with her teeth bit by bit. She can hear Sokka chomping away. He finishes well before she does, but sits quietly. It's the kind of silence that comes over him when he doesn't dare say what he's thinking for fear of a rock to the face. She thinks. It's hard to tell when she can't read his heartbeat.

She bites off a chunk of jerky and says, mouth full, “Spit it out, meathead.”

“Spit what out?” He feigns ignorance – badly. “The jerky?”

Toph slaps her palm to her face. “Whatever it is you're not saying. Even without earth under me I can feel the tension in the air. I won't punch you. Promise.”

A beat, and then, “You're not wearing a scarf. Aren't you cold?”

She had expected something much more nosy from him right now and she laughs, surprised. “Really? I'm so buried in these stinking animal skins that I can't even tell what I'm wearing anymore.”

“Seriously, Toph. You're not used to this kind of cold so you should be wearing a scarf, too. Or at least be indoors where it's warmer.” He shifts his weight and she hears his feet slide out, extending his legs in front of him. “Geez, I sound like Katara. Hey, sorry for doting on you. I know you can take care of yourself.”

Toph snorts. “Not here.”

“Say what?”

She resists the urge to toss the jerky across the ground. “I'm helpless here,” she practically spits. “I can't see anything. You know what I mean. There's no real ground here, and these boots are killing me. It's like having your entire head wrapped up in a hot blanket and your hands tied so you can't get it off.”

Sokka is close enough to her that she feels him shudder. “That sounds scary. Claustrophobic.”

“That's exactly what it is. Claustrophobic,” she adds quickly. “Not scary. I'm not scared. Just mad.”

He's quiet again, then says, “Seriously though, aren't you cold?”

Toph reminds herself that she promised not to deck him. “Nothing wrong with being a little cold. You guys  _live_ here for cripes sake.”

A rustle of fabric, then Toph jumps when he throws something around the back of her neck. “Look, just humor me. Otherwise Katara will kick my face in when she finds out you're not properly bundled. Okay?”

She frowns, but lets him adjust his scarf around her neck. His ungloved hands (he must've taken them off to eat) brush her jawline and she attributes the shiver to the cold air. He takes a long time to carefully knot the scarf under her chin, then tugs it up nearly to her nose. “There. The proper way to wear a Southern Water Tribe scarf. Here, pull it up around your ears more. You're all flushed with cold.”

Sure, that's it.

His hands linger on the end of the scarf, hanging down, tugging on it gently now and then as if it adjusted something. “You look different in blue.”

“If you say so.”

“Sorry,” he splutters. “I just mean... Well, you look different in blue, that's all.” He drops the ends of the scarf and leans away, taking his body heat with him. She can no longer feel the rush of his heartbeat and she feels blind again.

“It's really warm,” she says, her voice muffled by the knit pressed against her face. Her breath comes back against her skin, hot and damp, and it does warm her. Sokka is playing with something he's pulled out of his pocket, fidgeting in the silence. Toph presses her gloved hand to the icy ground, straining for the slightest bit of vibration. She gets little of any use. “Hey,” she finally says. “I think I am starting to get actually hungry. Can you walk me to the kitchen?”

“Walk you?”

She stands, brushing snow off the back of her legs. “Well I can barely see where I'm going. In this environment I might walk right off the ice into the water.”

Sokka stands next to her and she hooks her arm through his. “Don't say stuff like that.”

She points in a random direction, clueless as to the location of the kitchen. “Lead on, Snoozles! There's a squid with my name on it.”

 


End file.
